


The Very Scary Door

by bookinit



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookinit/pseuds/bookinit
Summary: Richie and Eddie open the “Very Scary” Door.It’s a fucking closet.Ha-fucking-ha, Pennywise. Very funny.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 19
Kudos: 321





	The Very Scary Door

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back from the dead to give you a fic that nobody asked for, that is not even a marvel fic. Yay!  
> The truth is, nothing has inspired me to write more than the IT book and movies. I cried at both. These two deserved more, and I have absolutely fallen in love with these characters and their relationship.  
> That being said, I am bad at writing both scary stories and humor, so I decided to do a story that requires both. Also not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine (trust me, I know what they are. You don’t have to tell me. I was just too lazy to edit.)  
> Before this gets too long winded, trigger warning: homophobic slurs are used a handful of times, both by Pennywise and Richie himself, because he has issues. I absolutely do not condone usage of these slurs in real life, obviously. If that bothers you, don’t read.

Richie ran like his life depended on it. Well, not  _ his _ exactly — he didn’t give a shit whether he lived or died — but Eddie’s. Eddie, who was next to him, stupid flashlight helmet on, inhaler in hand. Eddie, who was adorably small, and nervous, and just the same as he was when they were kids. Just as  _ brave _ . 

Richie looked over at him, a sidelong glance, and found himself transported back to when they were thirteen. Richie remembered a summer of longing, of catching glimpses of skinny ankles and big brown eyes and just  _ wanting _ . He wasn’t good with words in the way that Ben and Bill were, but something about Eddie made him want to compose fucking sonnets or some  shit like that. Gross. 

More than anything, Richie remembered being scared shitless. He had never asked to be gay. He didn’t want to be the type of person that got beat up and left to die, the type of person that the police would look the other way in such an event. He didn’t want to be the type of person that got called  _ faggot _ and  _ fairy _ . He didn’t want to be the type of person that looked at his best friend and wanted to know the taste of their lips. But more than anything, Richie didn’t want to be the type of person who was called  _ dirty _ and  _ disgusting _ . There was nothing Eddie hated more than dirt. 

So, Eddie could never know. Nobody could. 

Anyway, the curve of Eddie’s ankles wasn’t exactly an important thing to be thinking about when they were being chased by a giant fucking spider leg. Tube leg ... with a mouth? Whatever. Point was, Richie needed to get it together. 

Rounding another corner, Richie stopped short. Three doors. Each was labeled. What the fuck was this? Another mind trick?

Eddie, next to him, jerked to a halt, panting hard. His hand reached for his inhaler, fluttered uselessly for a second, then fell limp to his side. “Not scary. We go through the not scary one, right? Least chance of death, statistically.” Richie looked at him, meeting chocolate colored eyes with a solid look of fear. 

“No. It’s gotta be a trick. That’s what  _ It  _ wants us to think, that the ‘Not Scary’ door is full of fucking rainbows and sunshine.” Richie took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Eddie was counting on him. He had to be right about this. Eddie was gonna come out of this hellscape alive if it was the last thing Richie ever did. No, seriously. Richie meant it — he would gladly die if it meant Eddie got to go back to the real world and his boring insurance job, and even his horrific mom-wife, if he wanted to. Richie would die a thousand times if it meant Eddie could live a long, happy life. Love made you fucking crazy like that, or something. 

“The ‘Very Scary’ door, okay? That should be the tamest one.” Or so Richie fucking hoped. With their luck, they would open the door to the fucking Paul Bunyan statue with the face of the leper, all rotting and decayed. 

Richie and Eddie approached the door, glancing at each other furtively. “On three?” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand, in what he hoped was a friendly, reassuring way, and not a ‘I want to jump your fucking bones and also maybe cuddle’ type of way. 

_ Time and place, Trashmouth. Beep-Beep, you fucking loser.  _

Eddie met his gaze, squeezing back. His hands were clammy. “On three.” Richie faced the door. He had faced It before, right? He could do this. 

“One,” and oh no. Oh fucking no. He could very much not do this. He was scared out of his fucking mind. 

“Two,” maybe he should have told Eddie he loved him. Just once. Since they were probably about to die, and all that. 

“Three.” Richie and Eddie, hands still interlocked, slowly turned the handle. Eddie had his spear raised, and Richie had his arm set in what he hoped was a good defensible position.  _ Are you ready to rrrruuumblee, motherfucker, _ Richie thought, somewhat maniacally. 

And... there was nothing. It was a fucking closet. There were some clothes on a rack, some shoes on the floor. A pull string for the light. Arm still raised, Richie pulled on the string, half expecting Pennywise to come rocketing out of the ceiling. But there was still nothing. Just eerie silence. Him, and the closet. And Eddie. 

_ I see what you did there, Pennywise. Real fucking ironic. Ha-fucking-ha.  _

Richie waited for the punchline. Was a clone of himself going to come staggering out? Was Pennywise? Was Stanley’s fucking spider-head lurking in the dark? Eddie was similarly tense beside him, spear still raised in his trembling hand. 

A few more seconds ticked by. A minute. Eddie started to relax, and so did Richie. Then he had to ruin it and open his fucking mouth. 

“This is the best you’ve got?” He directs his words to the ceiling, as if It’s face is about to pop out and greet them. Eddie glances at him, panicked. “Richie, _ no— _ ”

“Huh? This the best you got, motherfucker? This the scariest thing you can throw at us? An empty closet?” Richie feels like he’s high. He’s at the point that he sometimes gets to, where he gets boosted up on adrenaline and his mouth spouts confidence he doesn’t actually have. 

There’s silence, for a few moments. Eddie grabs his arm, trying to pull him along. “Come on, Rich, let’s get the fuck outta here—”

“Why,  _ Richie,”  _ the voice floats down, “you’re smarter than that.” Eddie presses his face into his hands, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like “Of  _ course _ you had to fucking provoke it.”

The voice continues, regardless. “You know what it means, don’t you? Your  _ biggest, baddest _ fear. Or did you forget — I know your  _ secret _ ?” It’s voice twists on the last word, just as it had at the park.  _ I know your secret, your dirty little secret...  _

Richie is no longer confident. He’s fucking scared out of his mind, drenched with fear. He has a sudden realization — this is how It gets him. It wanted him afraid. Eddie looks over at him. Their hands are still clasped. “What — What’s he talking about, Rich?” His voice stutters over the question. Richie ignores him, avoids his eye. 

“Awwww, how  _ adorable _ ,” It coos, saccharine and taunting. “Richie and Eddie sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” There’s a loud smooching noise, as if to cement the point. Richie doesn’t dare look at Eddie. He feels like he’s about to combust. “You fucking liar!” He shouts at the ceiling. His voice breaks, like he’s fucking thirteen years old again. 

“Oh, no, Richie. Ol’ Pennywise  _ never _ lies. Never, never, never!” The voice pauses, gleeful. “Pennywise looks right into your brain, boy. Pennywise knows your fears. He knows you’re just a scared little faggot who likes your best friend a little  _ too _ much.” Richie’s aware, distantly, that he’s started dissociating. He feels Eddie shaking him, but it seems far away, like he’s trying to touch Richie through a hundred layers of thick jackets. All Richie hears is Pennywise, directing his own thoughts, his own self-hatred, back at him. 

“So yes, the closet is empty, Richie. You know why? Because you’re out of it! Congrattttulations!” And fucking confetti comes out from the ground, like the world’s worst surprise party. Distantly, Richie thinks that he’ll never be able to face Eddie again, if they both come out of this alive. He had even been thinking that  _ maybe _ , one day in the very distant future, he would tell Eddie how he felt. Preferably on the phone, with a couple states as distance between them, because Richie’s a fucking coward. But, however he told him, he thought it would be at least, ya know, on his own terms. Not because a disembodied clown voice drifted down from the ceiling and ruined Richie’s life. 

Pennywise wasn’t done, though. “Let’s see what Eddie thinks about it, hmm? What does dear  _ Eds _ think of your secret?” There’s a giggle, then a  _ whoosh  _ of air, like Pennywise had left the room. Off to terrorize someone else, Richie guessed.

Like magic, Eddie was suddenly in front of him, clear as day. His eyes were sad as he reached out towards Richie. His fingers curled against his cheek and Richie guiltily leaned into it, seeking out the touch. “Oh Richie...”

Eddie’s eyes turned cold, dark. “I can’t believe you thought I’d ever love you,” he spits. His fingers take hold of Richie’s cheek, holding him in place. “You know what you are, Richie? You’re  _ dirty. Disgusting.  _ How could you ever think we were more than friends? I never even wanted to be friends with a pathetic mess like you, I never want to see you again...” Eddie continued on, his mouth going a mile a minute. Richie was frozen in place as Eddie took more steps towards him. They were close enough to kiss. Obviously though, Eddie didn’t want that. Richie didn’t blame him. 

It felt a little strange, though. Although Richie knew that Eddie didn’t return his feelings — he was married to a woman, after all — he had always thought he would at least let him down gently, if he ever found out. If Richie ever told him. Richie was helpless to do anything but stand and watch as the love of his life hurled insults in his face. It was funny — Richie thought he could hear another voice, coming from somewhere far away. It almost sounded like  _ Eddie’s  _ voice, but that couldn’t be right, Eddie was right here in front of him. 

Come to think of it, had Eddie’s eyes always been that color? Almost... yellow? Where had the bandage on his cheek gone? Why were his teeth so sharp, so decayed? Eddie had excellent dental hygiene, Richie was sure. Every time Eddie talked, his mouth opened wider, and wider, and ...

Just about the time Richie realized he was about to get eaten, because he was an idiot, a spear drove itself through fake Eddie’s skull.  _ Huh,  _ thought Richie, dumbly,  _ I didn’t know spears could move on their own _ . Fake Eddie collapsed, falling to his knees and then to the floor, disappearing in a cloud of dust. In his place, stood the real Eddie, still in a spear-throwing stance, knees slightly bent, eyes wild.  _ Oh, that makes more sense _ , was Richie’s only thought as he collapsed to the ground. 

Eddie, breaking his stance, rushed over to kneel beside Richie, hands fluttering over him as if to check for injuries, but not touching.  _ Great, _ thinks Richie,  _ he can’t even touch me now.  _

“Rich, are you okay?” Eddie’s teeth worried at his bottom lip, his eyes concerned pools of chocolate. He looked beautiful. 

Richie, as always, avoided that thought by deflecting with humor. “Give me four to five business days to recover, Eds. A couple bottles of vodka and I’ll be right as rain.” He doesn’t meet Eddie’s eye. He starts to sit up, only to be stopped by Eddie, a small hand on his chest. 

“Hold up, Rich. Is it— Is it true? What It said?” Eddie looks determined, concerned, and terrified all at once. Fantastic. 

“You really wanna have this conversation now? When we’re in the middle of trying to kill an interdimensional evil clown?” Richie means it as a joke, but Eddie doesn’t laugh. He sets his jaw. 

“It’s as good a time as any.” 

Richie could lie. He could easily say that It is a fucking lunatic that just wants to tear them apart. Maybe Eddie would even believe it. But after what Richie just went through, he doesn’t have the heart to lie to him. Eddie could hurl all the insults in the world at him, and he wouldn’t move a muscle. Eddie probably knows at this point, anyway. He just wants Richie to confirm it, for some reason, instead of sweeping it under the rug and awkwardly pretending it never happened like they obviously  _ should _ be doing. Fuck it. Richie was getting tired of lying, anyways. 

“Yeah, Eds, it’s all — it’s all true.” He almost expects Eddie to hit him, or break into tears, or get up and leave and say he never wants to see him again. But Eddie doesn’t do any of that. Instead, Eddie sits down next to him. He puts his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie’s heart immediately starts pounding on his chest. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie’s voice is small, insecure. “Did you think I would react like the — like  _ It  _ did? You know I would never say that to you, Rich.” Richie has to swallow a few times to get his throat to work, rendered temporarily speechless by the feeling of Eddie’s soft hair brushing his neck. He has to resist the urge to card his fingers through it. 

“No, I knew that you wouldn’t say that shit. I just,” Richie looks down at his hands in his lap, blinks back tears, “I knew you didn’t feel the same. It’s okay, there’s no hard feelings.” And that was a fucking lie if he ever heard one. Richie felt like he was made of nothing  _ but _ hard feelings: regret, sorrow, loss. He was drowning of it. He didn’t blame Eddie for his fucked up feelings, though. Of course not. 

Eddie lifted his head from his shoulder, blinked at him incredulously. “Richie, what are you talking about? I love you too.” Color rose to Eddie’s cheeks, but he kept Richie’s gaze, eyes steady. Looking abashed, he continues, “I probably should have led with tha—” before he gets cut off. By Richie’s mouth. 

Eddie stills for a moment before returning the kiss, all but climbing onto Richie’s lap to get better access to his mouth. It’s by all objective standards, not a great kiss. Richie has to crane his neck uncomfortably to reach Eddie, and they’re all sweaty and dirty and Richie still has ectoplasm on his cheek from Stan’s disembodied head. But he’s kissing  _ Eddie _ , which immediately makes it the best kiss he’s ever had. 

A few minutes later, Eddie’s panting into his mouth, squirming on his lap. Richie has died and gone to heaven. Actually, with the way this day has been going, that’s probably a serious possibility. He should look into that. Make sure he’s still alive, and all that jazz. 

At the sound of Ben and Beverly’s shouts outside the cave, they reluctantly break apart. Eddie rests his forehead against his. “We should probably get out there,” Richie pants. Eddie nods, eyes still closed. 

Richie gently nudges him off his lap, starting to rise to his feet. He’s stopped by Eddie’s hand around his wrist, sincere eyes stopping him in his tracks. “Eds,” he breathes, the nickname falling out of his mouth unwittingly. 

“Rich, before we go out there... you’re not dirty, or disgusting, or all the other things It called you.” Eddie looks so genuinely earnest that Richie smiles, the corner of his mouth turning up. Eddie continues, spurred on, “You’re Richie fucking Trashmouth Tozier. And I love you.” Richie pulls him to his feet, kissing him again because he just can’t help it. 

“I love you too, Eds,” he grins. Eddie frowns, nose wrinkling. 

“Don’t call me —”

“Eds, yeah, yeah. You know you like it.” Eddie doesn’t confirm or deny, but the small smile on his face when Richie looks over is pretty fucking telling. Richie takes Eddie’s hand. 

“Now let’s go kill this fucking clown.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then they both lived and got married and got a dog together. The end.  
> I hope you enjoyed! I might write more of this fandom, I might not. Feel free to give kudos, comments, and constructive criticism. For the record though, I cringed as much at my use of italics, dashes, and ellipses as much as you probably did. I hope you enjoy these two idiots as much as I do :)  
> -H


End file.
